Hellspawn
by AdrianPetersonFan113
Summary: Hellspawn is loose. Loose and trying to seek vengance. Both on the Empire, and on a fellow, damned creature. Now setting up an HQ in Black Marsh, Hellspawn is ready to begin his war on anything that doesn't side with him.
1. Chapter 1

Day 12,846

Passage 1:

They give me a diary?! They looked surprised I know how to write, just another way the imperil damned pigs underestimated me.

Who am I? I don't know.

What am I? I don't know that, either. There is no name for me. I am the spawn of a goblin and a powerful Altmer sorceress. I am Hellspawn, as these fuckers here so affectionately call me.

Heh, bet they didn't think I knew that word, did they.

They brought me here, in this imperial prison basement, as soon as a legionnaire saw me. Didn't think I was an intelligent being. I am more intelligent then these swine and their mothers! The guards are shocked at how fast I am writing this. It hasn't even taken me thirty seconds yet. Their jaws hanging wide open.

They didn't think I was an intelligent being. I can't blame them though. I am an orc with small horns, scales, and, though they don't know it, I generate fire at will. Not by using magic, I just will it there, and, there it is. It does not take me magic to throw a fireball, but a fireball is the only thing I can throw.

I can have fire come out of any part of my body, for however long, without getting burnt. My green scaly skin seems immune.

And my muscles! Even while any other prisoner would rot while being in conditions like this, I grow. I grow in size, and strength. My arms are thicker then the fattest guard's waist, and, though I have not tried it before, I know I can jump right through this damned roof, which, is about one hundred fifty yards above me.

I am about fifteen feet tall, and am pissed.

They keep me in the basement of the damned imperial prison outside of the Imperial City. My room is a giant round room. I sit, shackled by twenty chains (I counted them thousands of times) and my feet are magically burdened to the floor. Directly behind me, halfway up to the top of the room, is a doorway. No stairs. No platform. Just a door. They open it every other day and use telekinesis to feed me rotten mutton, and give me half a pitcher of water that I know they just scraped of the bottom of Rumare.

I guess I should pace myself with my writing. I need a highlight to my days.

Passage 365:

One year. I've had this diary for one year. It's the same diary I've had all year. They've tried to read it, but I wouldn't let them. They tried to electrocute me until I let go of my book, but when it hit me, I looked at him, snarled, then the bolt came flying out of me and back into the foolish guard tenfold. I'll be eating good for about three more days.

I didn't know I could do that…

(New Diary) Passage 33:

The bastards were at least kind enough to give me a new diary. My old one was filled with hundreds of passages. It gave me a full year and 287 days!

Hopefully, this one will last somewhere as long. I haven't done the math yet, but it seems to be smaller. Damned legion will probably only give me half a sheet of paper in the distant future, but, I will still be young in that different future.

They told me so. They treat me like a child. They brought in their mages. They poked me. They prodded me. But I let them. Why? I will explain in the near future. But not now. Why? I truly don't know. Still pacing myself.

Passage 108:

75 days ago, I mentioned that I could have blasted a couple of mages and guards why I didn't? I need them to get more used to me. This generation is still too respecting. I need a generation that I can be sure with. Sure about what?

Disrespect. I need their disrespect. I need the guards to see who can get closest to me. I need to see which guards has the biggest balls and will slap me when I refuse to let him see my notebook.

Why? Why won't I just blast him through the door now? Because. I need precaution. They need to get used to me. I could escape now, I am sure, but, I must be with my full strength when the day comes. When, one day, a guard comes to throw my own food in my face, I will be stronger then I am now, and he will be weaker and in a worse position then he is now.

Passage 292:

Almost done with my diary. I'll need a new one. I love my diaries. I love my diaries more then I love my own father. They raised me. The goblins, they raised me. They taught me savageness. That's how I was brought into this world. My father raided a village, and took the female leader as his prize. He raped her. She gave birth to me. She was eaten alive by him, literally.

I inherited my father's physic, I inherited my mother's knowledge and her power. But why am I so much larger then other goblins? Scales? Horns?

It must be an ancient breed, lying dormant within both races' veins. Maybe I am an Aylied?

Passage 348:

13 pages to go, then I need a new diary.

This age and generation of guards are very disrespectful.

It will be soon, very soon.

(New Diary)Passage 1:

This is it. They gave me my new diary by throwing it at my face.

They surround me now, laughing while I write. While I write. If one of use, you or I, don't make it, know that you were my best friend, little diary.

Here it goes


	2. Victory and Defeat

Day 12,846

Passage 1:

They give me a diary?! They looked surprised I know how to write, just another way the imperil damned pigs underestimated me.

Who am I? I don't know.

What am I? I don't know that, either. There is no name for me. I am the spawn of a goblin and a powerful Altmer sorceress. I am Hellspawn, as these fuckers here so affectionately call me.

Heh, bet they didn't think I knew that word, did they.

They brought me here, in this imperial prison basement, as soon as a legionnaire saw me. Didn't think I was an intelligent being. I am more intelligent then these swine and their mothers! The guards are shocked at how fast I am writing this. It hasn't even taken me thirty seconds yet. Their jaws hanging wide open.

They didn't think I was an intelligent being. I can't blame them though. I am an orc with small horns, scales, and, though they don't know it, I generate fire at will. Not by using magic, I just will it there, and, there it is. It does not take me magic to throw a fireball, but a fireball is the only thing I can throw.

I can have fire come out of any part of my body, for however long, without getting burnt. My green scaly skin seems immune.

And my muscles! Even while any other prisoner would rot while being in conditions like this, I grow. I grow in size, and strength. My arms are thicker then the fattest guard's waist, and, though I have not tried it before, I know I can jump right through this damned roof, which, is about one hundred fifty yards above me.

I am about fifteen feet tall, and am pissed.

They keep me in the basement of the damned imperial prison outside of the Imperial City. My room is a giant round room. I sit, shackled by twenty chains (I counted them thousands of times) and my feet are magically burdened to the floor. Directly behind me, halfway up to the top of the room, is a doorway. No stairs. No platform. Just a door. They open it every other day and use telekinesis to feed me rotten mutton, and give me half a pitcher of water that I know they just scraped of the bottom of Rumare.

I guess I should pace myself with my writing. I need a highlight to my days.

Passage 365:

One year. I've had this diary for one year. It's the same diary I've had all year. They've tried to read it, but I wouldn't let them. They tried to electrocute me until I let go of my book, but when it hit me, I looked at him, snarled, then the bolt came flying out of me and back into the foolish guard tenfold. I'll be eating good for about three more days.

I didn't know I could do that…

(New Diary) Passage 33:

The bastards were at least kind enough to give me a new diary. My old one was filled with hundreds of passages. It gave me a full year and 287 days!

Hopefully, this one will last somewhere as long. I haven't done the math yet, but it seems to be smaller. Damned legion will probably only give me half a sheet of paper in the distant future, but, I will still be young in that different future.

They told me so. They treat me like a child. They brought in their mages. They poked me. They prodded me. But I let them. Why? I will explain in the near future. But not now. Why? I truly don't know. Still pacing myself.

Passage 108:

75 days ago, I mentioned that I could have blasted a couple of mages and guards why I didn't? I need them to get more used to me. This generation is still too respecting. I need a generation that I can be sure with. Sure about what?

Disrespect. I need their disrespect. I need the guards to see who can get closest to me. I need to see which guards has the biggest balls and will slap me when I refuse to let him see my notebook.

Why? Why won't I just blast him through the door now? Because. I need precaution. They need to get used to me. I could escape now, I am sure, but, I must be with my full strength when the day comes. When, one day, a guard comes to throw my own food in my face, I will be stronger then I am now, and he will be weaker and in a worse position then he is now.

Passage 292:

Almost done with my diary. I'll need a new one. I love my diaries. I love my diaries more then I love my own father. They raised me. The goblins, they raised me. They taught me savageness. That's how I was brought into this world. My father raided a village, and took the female leader as his prize. He raped her. She gave birth to me. She was eaten alive by him, literally.

I inherited my father's physic, I inherited my mother's knowledge and her power. But why am I so much larger then other goblins? Scales? Horns?

It must be an ancient breed, lying dormant within both races' veins. Maybe I am an Aylied?

Passage 348:

13 pages to go, then I need a new diary.

This age and generation of guards are very disrespectful.

It will be soon, very soon.

(New Diary)Passage 1:

This is it. They gave me my new diary by throwing it at my face.

They surround me now, laughing while I write. While I write. If one of use, you or I, don't make it, know that you were my best friend, little diary.

Here it goes


End file.
